


Hit It Hit It Twist It Twist It

by floweredhalo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use, also there is no teacher/student in this bc im not super into that !, like weed use ?? idk how to tag this pls dont read if it triggers u okay, louis is 2015 glastonbury louis in case u need references, louis is like 26 and harry is 21 if that is also a thing, okay anyway lol, so harry is a like 2018marcel typa dude who happens to smoke weed bc of his anxiety, so weed mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 08:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15968771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floweredhalo/pseuds/floweredhalo
Summary: He notices Harry staring at him and raises an eyebrow.“You alright?” Oh, god, is his voice raspy? Harry doesn’t answer right away but blurts out the first thing he thinks of.“Do I smell like weed?” Harry blurts, almost too loud considering how close they’re sitting. Harry watches as the guy’s mouth drops open in a small o and the way he laughs startles them both.“Oh, my god, no, you’re good, man,” he says and laughs again before shaking his head and tapping his papers on the desk.





	Hit It Hit It Twist It Twist It

**Author's Note:**

> this is literally so dumb but here it is anwya , this is for hannah. 
> 
> thank you so much to my friend [Jas ](lovelyloullaby.tumblr.com) who went through this and hopefully didnt judge me for my horrible misuse of the comma. ily thank you!!! 
> 
> okay so yes its ironically set on LSU's campus, most of this is from my memory some of it i had to look up but the indian mounds are a real thing i promise. also the katrina story is only part of my katrina story. my family really is from labadieville who then moved to thibodaux and then to new orleans. anyway yes here you go!
> 
> also its based on https://twitter.com/ebonyrobinson10/status/1032290495970598912 this tweet

Harry watches the smoke float across his dashboard as he exhales. He likes watching it cloud over and disappear into nothing as time passes, he always has. He came to his car to smoke a bowl before his next class. Not enough to get him super spacey, but enough to calm his anxiety that built up throughout the morning. He probably shouldn’t be smoking this openly, first row of the lot and all. He knows the girl on the bench next to the parking lot is watching him smoke. He would offer to share with her, but he’s had such a shit day already and it’s only the first of the semester. His morning has been a complete disaster. 

He woke up on time, and sat down in his classroom with time to spare, he hated to be late especially on the first day. He then watched in horror as the professor wrote the class name on the board and it wasn’t Intro To Forensic Science. He checked his schedule and ran to the correct building with minutes to spare. When he burst through the doors to the lecture hall, his professor called him out in front of the entire class and made an example out of him. He had been really looking forward to loving that class. Too bad Professor Mary is on his shit list now. 

His second class was boring beyond belief and his professor was wearing a t-shirt that read ‘It’s On The Syllabus,’ and he refused to answer questions that Harry’s classmates asked, instead he pointed to his shirt and continued on. His day started off as shit and he’s expecting the rest of his day to continue on in the same fashion. He decided he needed to treat himself after his fiasco of a morning, so Harry got chips and queso from the taco truck on campus and walked back to his car. 

He checks his phone to see how much time he has left before he has to go to his communications class. He still has about twenty minutes so he takes another hit from his pipe. He watches the smoke pour out of his mouth again as he sets his pipe on the console. He moves to grab another chip from the paper bag. His favorite thing when he’s high is tortilla chips, he can’t explain it, he just loves the sound they make in his head when he chews. He doesn’t mind how dry they are even though Liam says he’s absolutely mad for eating those when he’s high. He dips another chip in queso and watches as the cheese drips back into the container. Harry thinks Liam can kiss his ass; Harry loves his chippies.

He doesn’t understand why he has to take a communications class, he’s trying to be a forensic analyst, not a communications person. He doesn’t even know what people who study communication are called. He looks back at his watch and notices it’s time for him to leave his safe space and go back into the hell hole he calls his campus. Campus wouldn’t be so bad, it’s scenic, with the oak trees and benches and all that, but it’s dismal being on campus alone. Harry hates being alone on campus, he’s always scared the bigots preaching in Free Speech Alley are going to tell him he’s going to hell again. 

Going to school in the south was not his original plan, he’s from the south, and he’s always wanted to get out. But his scholarships to in-state school outweighed his out of state scholarships, so he decided he should take advantage of practically free college. His mom is working on a lawyer’s assistant salary and his sister is currently on her way to becoming a teacher, and he didn’t want to be a financial burden on them. Living close to campus is a plus and he doesn’t have to deal with the horrid meal plan his college offers. 

As a gay man, the south hasn’t been horrible to him, but it hasn’t been kind either. He’s from a suburban area but one with a few more liberals than conservatives. His friends are all either accepting or also gay, so he has his circle of people who always have his back. His mom threw him a coming out party that included rainbow banners and cupcakes that said ‘gay!’, and his sister beat up Nathan from freshman year of high school for calling Harry a poof. Liam was his saving grace though, Liam found him crying in the gym bathroom and offered to smoke him out and they’ve been thick as thieves ever since. Liam has been by his side through every sexuality crisis Harry has gone through and has always offered a hug and a joint. His mom calls Liam her third child and Harry’s glad he’s got such a beautiful support system. 

So Harry’s stuck in the south, and he thought college would be different, more open. He wasn’t entirely wrong though, there’s a LGBT club on campus and a gay club right off the main street. However, there’s a family of bigots who preach on campus about everyone going to hell if they don’t repent. Once a little girl with dutch braids down to her waist came up to him and smiled while telling him he was going to hell for wearing nail polish. How she spotted his pearlescent polish from at least 10 feet away he’ll never know. So college has its ups and downs. 

He grabs his backpack and his trash and gets out his car. He offers an awkward smile at the girl on the bench, she laughs at him and looks back to her phone. He’s almost used to people seeing him and laughing at him, his glasses or his plaid pants. He throws his trash out and walks towards the auditorium his class is held in. He starts laughing to himself over the fact that they have communications class in an auditorium because the speaker has to communicate loudly. 

Teaching in those classes is not for the faint at heart, Harry has respect for people who aren’t absolutely terrified of speaking in front of others. He wouldn’t say he’s completely socially awkward, but he gets sweaty when he has to talk in front of groups. Not the normal type of sweat at the hairline and underarms, he profusely sweats droplets. He used to get laughed at during his oral presentations to the point where his teachers had to stop him from taking his turn. It’s why he fled to science when he was younger; people mostly left the nerds alone unless to be a punching bag. He’s gotten shoved in his locker more times than he can count, and a fair amount of broken glasses. His least favorite was being tripped in front of people, his stuff would always fly everywhere and no one would stop to help him. He hopes he can just pass this class and be finished with the requirement without getting sweaty. 

Before he enters the building, he takes a second to adjust his glasses and make sure his black t-shirt is still tucked into his new plaid pants. He walks into the auditorium, he knows he’s moving too slow but when he moves too fast he feels like he’s on a swing. He realizes on his way to the fourth row that he forgot to spray his cologne before getting out of his car. He sits down a couple seats from the aisle and puts his bag by his feet. As he bends down to get a notebook and pen from his bag, he tries to stealthily see if he smells like weed. He can’t tell if he does or not based off how runny his nose is. He leans back in his desk and turns his phone on silent as he scrolls through his Instagram feed. His favorite bakery just posted a new cake pic and he sees they have a story available, so he clicks on their story and zones out. 

Someone sits down next to Harry and breaks his focus. He looks to his right and his breath catches in his throat. The guy who is sitting next to Harry is stunning, his hair is shaggy and swooped across his forehead, Harry is staring and he knows it. The guy grabs some papers from his bag and leans back to observe the classroom. He notices Harry staring at him and raises an eyebrow. 

“You alright?” Oh, god, is his voice raspy? Harry doesn’t answer right away but blurts out the first thing he thinks of. 

“Do I smell like weed?” Harry blurts, almost too loud considering how close they’re sitting. Harry watches as the guy’s mouth drops open in a small _o_ and the way he laughs startles them both. 

“Oh, my god, no, you’re good, man,” he says and laughs again before shaking his head and tapping his papers on the desk. Harry is distracted by the way his wrists bend and how his hands look so soft holding the papers. “Are you sure you’re alright?” the man asks him again. 

“Yeah,” Harry pauses to lick his lips, “yeah,” Harry says slower than he’s probably ever spoken. 

“Alright, then,” the man speaks again in his raspy voice. He sounds like he just smoked a cigarette. Harry’s never been more into someone in his life. He watches the man’s chest rise as a deep breath and fall as he lets it out before he stands up and says, “Be right back.” 

Harry watches the way his delicate ankles carry him down the stairs. Harry would quite like to kiss his ankles. Does that mean he has a foot kink? He shakes his head, no, he doesn’t think so. The way this man walks is hypnotizing, it’s almost as if he’s floating as he walks from the aisle to the podium. Harry licks his lips and watches the man walk up to the chalkboard and write the name of the class and then he watches the man stand behind the podium and tap his papers once more. 

Harry takes a moment before it clicks in his mind, and he thinks, oh god. Harry asked the fucking teacher if he smelled like weed. His life is over as he knows it, he’s going to have to drop this class, he thinks. His breathing gets quick and shallow without his permission, as he spirals overthinking about what just happened. This class is mandatory for him to graduate. Hypothetically, there has to be another teacher for it so maybe he can put in for a transfer. God but what if this teacher tells the other teachers and they call the cops or something? He’s in the process of getting a medical card, but he’s on the waitlist. God, smoking before class was supposed to prevent an attack like this. 

Harry slumps down in his seat and starts pulling at the collar of his t-shirt to get some air flow. Harry puts his hand on his face and closes his eyes for a moment to think about anything other than what just happened. But all he can think about is how dainty his teacher’s wrists are and how much he would like to run his fingers through his hair. He probably looks adorable when he’s falling asleep and like sunshine when he wakes up. Harry bets his teacher looks gorgeous in any light, with cheekbones like that. Harry can picture his teacher in the soft glow of candlelight with a cigarette in his hand and a smile on his lips. Harry spends the rest of the class thinking about his teacher’s ankles and how he probably _does_ smell like weed. 

 

His breathing has gone back to normal which is a blessing considering he left his inhaler at his apartment. He opens his eyes and looks around, the humming in his ears has lessened and he can hear the other students packing their bags and leaving the auditorium. He didn’t realize the entire class had gone by during his panic. He packs his own bag slowly and stands up from his desk. He didn’t get any of the notes, only the syllabus that was passed to him. He hopes the teacher didn’t start his lectures, and if he did, he hopes some student puts it on the class board. He’s not even high anymore he’s pissed. He holds his car keys in his hand and listens to the keychains clink together as he walks down the steps. 

When he gets down on level ground, he finally looks up. His teacher is wiping something he’s written off the chalkboard and, as he does so, Harry notices the way it makes his ass move. Harry trips over his own feet and lets out a squawk. His teacher turns and looks surprised to see that Harry is the one to stumble. Harry tries not to start crying and his teacher must see the wobble in his lip because he walks up to Harry and pulls him aside. 

“Hey, I saw you zone out during class, which is fine by the way. Not my class so it’s not like we talked about anything important. But do you need me to help you to your car or something? You look like you’re going to drop any second.” Harry’s brain short circuits at ‘not my class.’ 

“Not your class?” Harry breathes out.

“Damn, you really were zoned out. Yeah, I’m just a sub, your teacher couldn’t make it over the spillway, there was an accident or something I’m not sure.” 

“Oh, thank god,” Harry says before he can stop himself, “I mean, thank god, I didn’t make this horrible impression on someone who holds my future in their delicate hands.” 

“You think my hands are delicate?” Harry watches the man’s smile widen and his eyes almost sparkle. 

“What? Stop. But I think I’ll be okay to my car, Mr…” Harry trails off to let the man fill in. 

“Louis. No mister here, I’m just a substitute.” Harry watches as a smile takes over Louis’ face and how the crinkles form by his eyes. “What’s your name by the way? I didn’t catch it earlier.” 

“Uhm, I’m Harry.” 

“It’s nice to formally meet you, Harry, now what lot are you parked in? I’ll walk you.” 

“Indian Mounds lot, I got a front row spot too. That never happens on this campus. Especially not this close to the stadium.” Harry laughs as he says it, nervous laughter is a bad habit but someone’s gotta do it. “You?” 

“Ah shit, I couldn’t park that close to Cox, I’m over by Howe-Russell.” 

“Oh, by the food truck?” Harry asks excitedly. Louis nods and Harry continues, “I just got chips from there I love their queso. Oh! Have you ever been to the dairy store? They have the best ice cream close in like, a five-mile radius,” Harry says and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Louis’ eyes track the movement. 

“Yeah, wanna head there now?” 

“Together? Like, you wanna go get ice cream with me?” Harry could slap himself. Here he has a cute guy, _not his teacher,_ asking him to go get ice cream and he has to make it weird. 

“Yeah, if you’re up for it?” And now Harry’s gone and made Louis question himself. 

“Yes! Yes, let’s. Do that, together, yes,” Harry says and completely ruins any image Louis had of Harry being literate. 

Louis laughs and shakes his head. He motions for Harry to wait a moment and he finishes wiping the board off before he grabs his bag from earlier. They head out of the auditorium and back into the summer heat. Harry almost forgot it was the dead of August in Louisiana. 

“Okay, do you wanna drop your bag at your car since it’s on the way?” Harry thinks about it before answering, if they go to his car he’s probably going to be tempted to smoke to soothe some of the anxiety that has lingered for the past hour and a half. Maybe Louis will want to smoke too. He’ll ask him once they get to the car.

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry says, and they start the short walk to the parking lot. 

Harry’s car stands out, she’s bright blue and parked _horribly._ He’s not overparked or anything, just awfully crooked. When they get to his car, Louis snorts next to him. 

“Heey, we can’t all be good at everything, okay? Let me just throw my bag and grab my wallet.” Harry opens the back of his car and ungracefully throws his backpack in the back seat. He closes the back and opens the front door to reach the console and he takes his wallet out before turning to Louis who is still laughing next to him. 

“What’s funny? Do I have something on my ass or something?” Harry watches as Louis’ cheeks burn pink and how when he shakes his head no his hair fluffs up a bit. 

“NO! No, it’s just. Man, your car smells like straight up weed.” 

“Oh, d’ya want some?” Harry sees Louis’ eyebrows just about disappear into his hairline. 

“What? Right here?” Louis says and looks around. “I haven’t smoked on this campus since I was an undergrad student.” 

“What, like, last semester then?”

“Good one, but no, I graduated two years ago. But you know what, why not? I love people watching on this campus.” 

“Have you seen the kid that Naruto runs to class?” 

“Yes! God, I can’t tell if I hate him or want to be him,” Louis laughs. Harry grabs an already rolled joint (for emergencies only) and locks his car. 

“No light?” Louis asks him as they walk. 

“I always have one in my pocket, it’s a habit I guess.” Harry shrugs. Louis drops it and they walk in relative silence. 

The walk from the Indian Mounds to the dairy store isn’t a long one, but with the summer heat, it feels like ages. Harry sneaks glances at Louis, who doesn’t seem bothered by the heat at all. Harry wonders where he’s from. 

“Where are you from?” 

“Oh, I’m from Labadieville,” Louis says. “D’ya know where that is?” 

“My family is actually originally from Thibodaux, so yeah, I know Labadieville. I grew up in mid-city New Orleans though.” 

“That must have sucked honestly,” Louis says and laughs, he must know exactly how the city is. The pretty parts are for tourists, everything else is potholes and litter. 

“It was alright during Mardi Gras, anytime else it was more of a hassle than anything. Traffic is nonstop and no one, I mean no one knows how to drive,” Harry says, and Louis interrupts him. 

“Makes sense you’re from the city considering how you parked.” Louis laughs and so does Harry. 

“Yeah, it’s not like that out in Thibodaux. God, I love it there, summer doesn’t seem so bad out there.” 

“Nah, something about the wind in the sugarcane? Iced tea too, it’s just better in the wide open spaces.” 

They make it to the dairy store but continue talking about their hometowns once they leave with their ice cream. Louis says he wants some chips and queso, that he can’t pass it up. Harry thinks he’s found his soulmate. They’re headed to the Quad to people watch. Harry learns that Louis went to the same high school his cousins currently go to and they get a kick out of it. 

“I actually went there during Katrina. We had wound back in Thibodaux after evacuating and mom put us in school. But once Bobby fucking Jindal said schooling wouldn’t count once we were back in our parish, mom pulled us out. We just played outside the entire time.” 

“I think one of my little sisters would have been in your grade?”

“I only remember one girl, her name was Josie. She was the only girl that didn’t make fun of how I wore my hair, or how high my pants were pulled up.”

“I know Josie! She’s Lottie’s best friend!” 

“No fucking way? I always hoped Josie was like, okay. She was so kind.”

“No, she’s an absolute sweetheart. If you ask me, my younger sister has a crush on her.” Harry’s shocked by such a bold statement. He can’t quite read Louis. 

Their conversation pauses as they find a small patch of grass to sit and watch the hipsters in front of Middleton. Harry loves watching them, they’re the type of people who pretend they’re higher than they actually are and Harry enjoys seeing them stumble over themselves. 

“You’re okay with that?” Harry asks, he bites his lip. He’s not sure he’s ready for the answer. 

“Yeah, of course, Josie’s such a nice girl. Fizz could do much worse, she’s had horrible taste in crushes. Straight girls always know how to break a girl’s heart.” 

“Tell me about it,” Harry huffs out. He’s had his fair share of crushes on straight boys and it’s never easy getting over them. 

“You have any crushes on any straight girls lately, Harold?” Louis asks and licks around his ice cream cone. Harry watches Louis’ tongue and gets lost in it. 

“What? No, of course not,” Harry says without thinking. And, oh god. “Oh god. Please don’t, like hate me. I should have told you I was gay sooner I didn’t want to like trick you or anything.” Something he’s been accused of in the past, again, straight boys are no good for Harry. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Breathe, it’s okay, I’m gay. Shit, Harry what kind of tragic childhood did you have? Gay is okay, besides I was kinda hoping you were considering this is kinda a date.” Louis bumps Harry’s shoulders with his own. Harry didn’t even notice that they were sitting so close. 

“We’re on a date?” Louis smiles and nods his head. “Oh!” 

“Yes, we are on a _date._ Now, do you wanna smoke while we continue to be on a date?” Louis has a blush high on his cheek and chocolate on his lip. Harry’s never seen anyone more beautiful. He wants to kiss him. 

“I wanna kiss you,” Harry blurts, once again.

“Then kiss me, you fool,” Louis says. 

And Harry does.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [ tumblr ](floweredhalo.tumblr.com)


End file.
